


Another Path

by Kinui



Series: The Grey Code [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Alternate Ending, Angst, Gen, One Shot, Seduction to the Dark Side, Star Wars Rebels: Steps Into Shadow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-18 18:46:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29122872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kinui/pseuds/Kinui
Summary: Kanan showed up too late.At Reklam Station, a Jedi falls.
Series: The Grey Code [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2136939
Comments: 3
Kudos: 13





	Another Path

**Author's Note:**

> An alternate ending to the season 3 premiere. Enjoy!

It was with overwhelming confidence that Ezra cut through the power unit keeping Reklam Station afloat in Yarma’s atmosphere. His team would be well into securing the Y-wings by now and he was without doubt that Hondo and the ugnaughts were already making a hasty getaway, despite the pirate’s promise to “guard” the shuttle.

The young Jedi felt no small amount of mirth taunting the panicked Station Commander, as the man quickly made the evacuation order before fleeing from the command center. Unhurriedly, Ezra stepped to the wide window overlooking the docking station, observing as the station’s power systems begin to fail with explosive results.

Sabine hailed him over the comlink. “Spectre-Five to Spectre-Six: What was that blast?”

“I had to cut the station’s power,” he explained. “Get in those bombers and get out of here.”

“What about you?”

The slightest trepidation hit him as the station quaked beneath his feet, but his response remained self-assured. “I’ll take the Phantom. Now get going; that’s an order.” After confirming that Hondo was making his quick escape as well, Ezra made his way back down, arriving in the large hangar just in time to see the Y-wings take off.

He felt a thrill rush through him at the sight. From what would have been a completely fruitless reconnaissance mission, he had salvaged a win for the Rebellion. He would arrive back to the base with several ready-for-action (albeit old) ships to aid their cause. Certainly, no one would be able to find a reason to fault him for that.

 _That’ll show Hera_. The thought brought a dark twist to his face as he hurried out to the docks where the _Phantom_ was waiting. _It’ll show everyone. They’ll see that I’m not a kid anymore. I’m strong enough to do this! I can take care of them even if Kanan won’t. I can make up for–_

“Spectre-Six, the Empire is here–in orbit!” Sabine’s voice came from his comlink, breaking through the spiraling thoughts. “We are in big trouble!”

He was not given a chance to respond as the quickly-destabilizing station’s dock pitched violently to the side. A startled yell ripped from Ezra as he lost his footing and slid off the platform. He barely managed to catch himself on a ledge below, threateningly close to falling into the expanse of open-air beneath.

Taking a moment to catch his breath, he stared wide-eyed at the repulsorlift array below the station. A storm of unstable electricity surrounded the power cores and the sound of explosions was unceasing. It wouldn’t be long before the anti-gravity failed completely.

A thunderous crack snapped him to attention and he turned just in time to see a mechanical arm break away from the docks. Before Ezra could even comprehend what was happening, the falling structure glanced forcefully off the _Phantom_ , wrenching the small ship from its magnetic hold to the bottom of the station.

“I’m in trouble too,” he said distraughtly, helpless as he watched his only mode of transport off the sinking station explode upon reaching Yarma’s surface. Feeling nervous on the small ledge as more racking quakes shuddered through the station, he force-jumped back up, hauling himself onto the more secure platform above.

“Spectre-Five? Spectre-Five, come in! Can you hear me?” He yelled urgently through his com. “Sabine! Come in!” He received no reply and didn’t dare to hold out hope that his transmissions were making it through to his team either. He’d lost connection to them.

He let out a distressed groan. “This is wrong,” he stammered, as Reklam Station came apart around him. “I-i-it’s all gone wrong!” His breath came in short gasps as stifling panic engulfed him. He was no longer concerned about returning home a hero. Now, he just wanted to make it back alive.

 _I’m going to die._ The thought tightened in his chest. He felt no sense of peace, no calm acceptance; only fear and...anger.

“Kanan,” he gasped, “Where are you?” The words poured out unwittingly, and Ezra immediately hated how he sounded like a small, scared child crying out for a parent.

_He’s abandoned me._

The thought settled with a kind of cold finalization within him; like an inevitable acceptance that he’d been trying to escape from for the last six months. It had nothing to truly do with this moment itself. It was the seed of an idea that had been planted the day they’d returned to Chopper Base without Ahsoka–Kanan’s eyes wrapped in makeshift bandages–that only now fully bloomed to its forgone conclusion. He’d messed up too much; Kanan no longer cared.

 _He blames me._ Now, that thought…that thought was very familiar to Ezra. The boy gripped his short hair tightly in a clenched fist. “It’s all wrong,” he choked out again in a whisper.

It had been an unending six months of self-doubt, of guilt, of the desire to do anything to redeem himself. He had needed to get stronger. The holocron was there to teach him when Kanan wasn’t. And then the man discovered it after months of barely even saying a word to Ezra and just _took it away!_

He thought back to that moment, of the last thing he had shouted to Kanan: _“I don’t need it! Just like I don’t need you.”_

Ezra would have taken more shouting, more arguing, more punishment– _anything_ –other than his master just...walking away.

 _I do need you, Kanan._ He hung his head, eyes wrenched tightly shut to fight against the sob working its way out of his throat. _But you don’t want me._

His misery was interrupted by the horrifically loud sound of grating metal, as the last remnants of Reklam’s anti-grav finally gave out. A terrified yell was stolen from Ezra as the ground suddenly disappeared from beneath him and then, he was free-falling through the air beside the station.

His arms flailed wildly as he reached out in an attempt to grab a hold of anything solid. As the falling structure began to rip apart in its descent, smaller pieces broke off and flew up past him at breakneck speeds. A large, silver cylinder smashed into him and he cried out, feeling snaps in both his chest and shoulder.

By chance, the object’s blow pushed him closer to the station itself, and he was able to reach out and find a handhold. He pulled himself close to the metal, ignoring the burning pain in his right side, and clenched his eyes shut.

There wouldn’t be much time left. Thoughts of his crew–his family–came to him unbidden. The racing feeling in his chest eased a little. He never thought he’d find a real home again after losing his parents. He never thought he’d amount to anything more than a thieving street rat on Lothal. He owed them everything.

 _(Do you?)_ The thought gave him pause. He reflected on the odd group of people he had fallen in with:

 _Hera._ He loved her like a mother, something he’d never imagined finding again. But lately, she’d been so... _unfair_. She was harsh, uncompromising; singling him out constantly and embarrassing him in front of everyone!

 _Sabine._ His best friend; the person he could always count on...who still treated him like a kid; who had argued with his every order on this mission, rolling her eyes and blatantly disrespecting his role as commander.

 _Zeb._ His bunkmate; the one he could wake no matter the time of night, without reservation or fear of judgment, when the nightmares or troubling thoughts became too much...the one who willfully abandoned him on an Imperial starship just to save his own skin. (And even now, half of Ezra’s nightmares were about what the Empire would have done to him once they realized he was a force-sensitive).

 _Chopper._ Well, Ezra was pretty sure Chopper had actively tried to kill him on more than one occasion.

And... _Kanan._ His master. His mentor. His hero.

Ezra had lived a self-serving life before Kanan came along. With his parents gone, and abandoned by Tseebo, he’d never had much reason to care for anyone other than himself. That all had changed the moment Kanan invited him to join them aboard the _Ghost_ , to learn about the Force and be trained in the ways of the Jedi. He’d found a purpose–a cause and a home–worth fighting for.

But what had they really done for him since kidnapping him off Lothal? He’d been shot at, imprisoned, and traumatized. He’d been left behind, disrespected, constantly reminded that he was never good enough. And ever since Malachor, Kanan just...wasn’t there.

Ezra had received no encouragement from the only other person that had experienced the Sith temple alongside him; no assurances that it _hadn’t_ been all his fault, that he couldn’t have known what would happen. Kanan had pulled away from him, from the others, and from the Force itself since that day that he was blinded. And he had left Ezra alone, even as the young man had stepped up to try to protect their misfit family–in any way he had to.

Ezra had no way to tell if he was crying, as the unrelenting wind whipped away any tears as they came, but his heart felt cold. As he tried to come to grips that this was it for him, one singular thought came to him, so clear and focussed that it didn’t feel as though it originated from himself.

_(Let go.)_

Ezra cried out in desperation and tightened his grip on the plummeting station.

_(Let go.)_

“I can’t!” He screamed out loud, his voice immediately lost in the ongoing shriek of rushing wind.

_(Let. Go.)_

.  
.  
. 

With a shuddering breath, in the midst of chaos, Ezra found a moment of serenity. Slipping fingers and weakened muscles chose to release their grip, and he kicked away lightly from the solidity of Reklam Station. For a moment, he no longer felt the raging wind as he continued falling headlong to the approaching planet surface. For a moment, he no longer felt the blood-chilling terror of a youth facing his own mortality.

He thought of his friends one last time, but a swell of anger overcame his serenity and painted it black.

_I had to be stronger–for them!_

_(Let go.)_

_They couldn’t see, so I had to see for them!_

_(You have a right to be angry.)_

_I can’t lose my family again._

_(Haven’t you already?)_

Ezra came back to himself suddenly. The smell of smoke and metal filled his senses, yet he was hardly able to draw oxygen into his lungs as his body was ripped violently through the air. The sickly clouds and billowing black smoke obscured his view of the ground, but he sensed it...so close.

Ezra screamed then: Not in fear, but in anger. Not in sadness, but in despair.

And he lets them go.

A cold surge of energy built from inside of him and everything went dark.

\--

He didn’t see the light freighter that pulled into Yarma’s atmosphere just as Reklam Station exploded on the surface.

He didn’t hear the anguished screams from the occupants inside as they were forced to abandon their rescue mission and flee from the awaiting Star Destroyer.

\--

Ezra was unaware of how much time had passed once he came to. Waking up at all felt like a miracle.

He didn’t move for a long time. He could feel the bare edges of pain around his consciousness and he knew it would hit him fully the moment he tried to get up. For now, lying on his back, he just breathed deeply, reveling in the fact that he was breathing at all.

Lifting an arm up experimentally, he carefully pushed himself into a sitting position, gasping as sharp pains hit him through his chest and shoulder. With a pained groan, he rubbed his chest and thought that perhaps a rib or two was broken. He tried to roll his right shoulder and quickly decided it was best to just not move that at all.

As he carefully got to his feet, he felt a strange give in the ground. He was standing on a thick bed of black ash. Around him lay the wreckage of Reklam; itself now added to the landscape of pollution it had subjected Yarma to for years. He could see little else through the thick, yellow fog of the planet but he suspected there wasn’t much to see on the uninhabited world.

He held a hand up and stared at it wonderingly, amazed to be alive.

Had the Force saved him?

_No._

His eyebrows drew together and he clenched his open hand into a fist.

_I reached out to the Force, and I commanded it._

The memory came back to him. He had cried out in a last desperate attempt for his life, reaching out for the light and finding it lacking...but the dark had responded. So, he took what he needed from it, and he protected his pitifully frail body.

_I saved myself._

“Now, I just have to get off this dump,” he says out loud, heaving a sigh. It would be just his luck to survive an impossible fall only to die on an inhospitable planet in the following days.

Instead of allowing for panic to take root, Ezra swiftly folded onto his knees, his bruised and beaten body protesting the movement. He took a deep, painful breath, straightened his spine– _You can do this, Ez_ –and allowed himself to gradually slip into a meditative trance.

Stepping into the Force was, without fail, a surreal experience for Ezra. At times, he still struggled with comprehending this ability that had been granted to him, although Kanan’s guidance had always helped to ground him. Now, he tentatively sought out the connection that had been forged between them as Jedi master and padawan.

“A force-bond,” Kanan had called it. It had been closed off to Ezra, ever since their return from Malachor. That had, perhaps, hurt more than everything else his master had done (or failed to do) in the time since. Ezra searches for the bond now and finds it, surprisingly, restored.

He had never tried to reach out from such a distance before but something in the Force around him felt different, more powerful. With overwhelming confidence, he knew could do it: call out to Kanan, let him know that he was alive. They would come for him.

But...Ezra hesitates and pulls back.

_I was right before. I don’t need you, Kanan. Not anymore._

He could still help his friends, still be an asset to the Rebellion and put a stop to the tyranny of the Empire. But he needed to grow stronger. He needed to understand this new power that he had been given access to. Kanan would never allow him to continue his education in understanding all that the dark side had to offer.

There was another option.

Ezra hadn’t been oblivious to Maul’s connection with him since Malachor. At first, he had thought it was just dreams and, subsequently, not getting enough sleep, combined with paranoia after that disastrous mission. But he soon came to recognize it for what it was: another force-bond forged between a master and apprentice.

Ezra wasn’t fooled. This bond was unlike his and Kanan’s; built not out of respect and mutual understanding, but constructed forcefully by the mad ex-Sith, without Ezra’s assent or knowledge. But even once he understood the source of his strange visions and disconnected feelings (even though it scared him), he had never told Kanan. He still wasn’t sure why.

However, he knew what he had to do. But first...Ezra reached out to his connection with Kanan–a warm, incandescent pathway that called to him–and he firmly cut himself off from it. The bond was not destroyed. He could still feel its existence, but it was like the door had been slammed shut and locked from his side. Then, he set down another path.

The response didn’t come in words–nothing so clear as that–but Ezra understood the sentiment pushed back through to him perfectly.

_(I knew you would return to me eventually...my apprentice.)_

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! This is the first fic I've posted in over 12 years, so I welcome any and all feedback and constructive criticism! I don't have plans for this to turn into any kind of long-form fic, but I do have ideas for continuation through a series of one-shots. I have a feeling I'll be working on that in the near-future.
> 
> Also, I’m pretty sure Yarma is meant to be a gaseous planet, but it needed a solid surface for the purposes of our boy surviving. And it already canonically has a breathable atmosphere so just...go with it. I also only realized when I was mostly through writing this that Maul and Ezra's force-bond was only created _after_ the holocron fiasco...which doesn't really work for my purposes here. So, I just retconned that Maul created one on Malachor. He's crazy powerful, tragically lonely, and mad desperate for an apprentice so I figured, why not?


End file.
